The Book of Souls
by metalheadrailfan
Summary: A few years after the events in San Lorenzo, Arnold and the gang find themselves on another adventure, this time to dry deserts of Egypt. But when a disowned family member comes along, it soon becomes apparent that what awaits them there is far, far worse.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 _Washington State Maximum Security Prison_

 _2020_

Secluded within the concrete darkness of his cell, a man with longish brown hair and a distinctive protruding chin laid somewhat peacefully on his bed. He didn't mind the isolation, he preferred it that way. But he didn't belong there and he told himself that. He makes one mistake and that suddenly flushes his life down the pipes while his little brother gets everything handed to him on a silver platter? Damn the justice system and damn parental favoritism.

His thoughts are interrupted by a loud clang on his cell door.

"Shortman, get up," said the guard.

Oh, how he hated being referred to by his supposed last name.

"You have visitors. Let's go," the guard continued as he presented cuffs.

The man cooperated and was soon guided to the visiting booth. How odd, why would anyone want to visit him? At this point everyone he once knew probably wiped him from their consciousness. Once seated, he found himself staring face to face with an overweight Caucasian man dressed in a sweater vest and khaki pants. His attire gave the impression that he was either a scientist or representative of some sort, though the scruffy beard might tell you otherwise.

' _This ought to be rich'_ , the inmate thought as he grabbed his speaker phone, "Yeah?"

"Good day, Mr. Shortman," said the man on the other side in a British accent, "My name is…"

"Clint," the inmate interrupted.

"Pardon?"

"Clint," the inmate repeated, "I prefer not to be called by my last name."

"Right, Clint," said the man as he gathered his train of thought, "As I was saying, my name is Seymour Hartley. I represent an archeology group in Egypt…"

"Ugh," Clint rolled his eyes, "I'm gonna stop you there, Blubber-Boy. If you're looking for an arche-whatever bullshit, look for my worthless runt of a little brother. I'm wasting my time with this crap."

"Mr. Shortman," Seymour began.

" _Clint!_ "

"Clint, please listen. My group is well aware of the work of your brother Miles and his wife, but you are key part of this excavation. What if I told you there is a book with untold powers? Powers so great that it could make one invincible?"

Once again, Clint rolled his eyes, not buying a single word. Seymour then glanced around making sure no one was truly listening, before showing Clint a more devious look.

"What if I told you that my superior would pay for your release in full and give you…a "reunion" with your brother?"

This caught Clint's attention.

"I'm listening," he said.

After a few minutes of explanations from Seymour, Clint gave a sly smile.

"So, do we have an agreement, Clint?" said Seymour.

"A chance to see my little bro again?" Clint chuckled, "how can I not pass this up?"

"Excellent! You should hear from us again in a few days with the paperwork for your release. More instructions will follow."

"Look forward to it, Blubber-Boy."

"Please don't call me that," deadpanned Seymour before leaving.

Once away from the prison, he dialed his superior on his phone.

"He's in, my master," he said.

There was a long pause on the other end.

"Perfect."

* * *

 **A/N:** What's going on fellow readers? After years of being on this site, I'm finally making my very first Hey Arnold fanfic. The idea for this story legitimately came to me in a dream and I'll admit was a bit nervous put it down on paper. I have to thank fellow writer **CallMeNettie** for encouraging me to get this started (Go read her fic, **"A Slice of Life"**! It's Awesome!).

Most people know that TJM had drew comparisons to the **Indiana Jones** series, so this story here is going to somewhat be comparable to **"The Mummy"** films. Also, I am fully aware of the fic **"The Shadow Around His Heart" by Arnold's Love** (which I also recommend) and I'm going to do my best to try and make this be it's own thing and not a copy of that story or the films.

Updates will be semi-slow as the real world takes up a lot of my time and I will have to do more research about ancient Egypt as I go along, however I will be taking creative liberties as well, so some of those elements will not be 100% accurate.

That's all I have to say for now. I hope you're on board for the ride.

Also, yes, every chapter (including the title) will be named after Iron Maiden songs. It's my rodeo, I do what I want.


	2. Innocent Exile

**Chapter 1 – Innocent Exile**

 _Hillwood Junior High, Hillwood, Washington_

 _February 2020_

"Finally, it's the weekend," a football headed teen said as he opened his locker, "at least with all this testing there isn't any homework, so I can relax a bit."

Arnold shuffled his desired books between the locker and his backpack as he prepared himself to go home. There were times he still couldn't believe he was already in 8th grade and with just a blink he could find himself heading into high school. It seemed like yesterday that he and his friends were at P.S. 118 and he thanked his lucky stars that they all managed to stay close friends. Sure they may have all found their own activities they shared in common with other people, but they made it a pact to never let the culture of school cliques drive them apart.

And there was one more thing that he was extremely blessed to have in his life.

"Hey, Football Head," said a tall blonde girl as she walking up to him, "ready to blow this pop stand? Testing this week has left me exhausted and I just wanna crawl in bed and never leave it."

"You don't have to tell me twice, Helga," replied Arnold as he placed his last book in the locker.

If someone were to have told 9 year old Arnold that he would one day call Helga G. Pataki, the iron-fisted, pink-bowed bully of the 4th grade, his girlfriend, he would've said they needed to be committed. But just shy of 3 years ago in the jungles of San Lorenzo, Arnold finally saw behind the curtain the fierce, passionate and loyal person that Helga was. And with her help to get him here and rescue his long-lost parents from the Sleeping Sickness, how could he not fall head-over-heels for her?

Of course when they first started dating, Helga was still trying to protect her reputation and Arnold completely respected her feelings for that. But it quickly became redundant hiding their relationship from everyone else as being subtle was next to impossible. Surprisingly though, the rest of gang really didn't have a problem with it, minus some light-hearted teasing.

She still wore her iconic pink bow with her pigtails, but every so often would wear it around her neck when she felt like wearing her hair down. Gone, though, was her equally pink dress in exchange for a grey hoodie, pink shirt and blue jeans. Arnold's attire remained relatively the same as it had been, with the only differences being the variety in colors of his plaid shirts and his teal sweater in favor of his blue jacket. The one thing that would never change, however, was his prized blue hat that was mounted on his wide head.

"So, you and Tall-Hair Boy gonna do your weekly Checkers game like the two old men you are?" Helga teased.

"Not this week," Arnold chuckled, "Gerald made other plans."

"Phoebe made plans to. If I didn't know better, I'd say they're trying to make up for Valentine's Day since Phoebe was so wrapped up in studying and drove Gerald-o nuts."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Arnold chuckled again, "If you're not doing anything at your place, you can eat dinner at my place. We're having Mexican tonight and Mom's making her burritos and Grandma's stuffed peppers."

"Oh, hell yes!" Helga fist-pumped and she suddenly began to composed herself.

" _Oooooh, burrito. Burrito. I'll never let you go my little burrito! Burrito, burrito, buriiiiiito, it's such a long way to go for me to eat you!_ "

Once finished singing, Helga turned to see Arnold with an astonished look on his face, not expecting her to do that.

"What?" Helga grinned, "You're looking at me like I suddenly turned pink, grew a second pair of arms, wings, and a tail and a third eye."

"Interesting…description," Arnold blinked, "but no, I just didn't expect you to break into song there and with a good voice. Though, I gotta say, you watch _way_ too much 'Star vs. The Forces of Evil'."

"Well excuse me for me for making a reference to my favorite cartoon while thinking about delicious burritos, Arnold-o," Helga said as she playfully shoved him, "sue me."

Arnold just laughed as he grabbed a hold of her hand and kissed it, "Never change, Helga."

"You're such a football head," she sighed lovingly.

"I love you, too."

* * *

 _Hillwood University_

"If there's one benefit of being in the jungle, there are no papers to grade," Miles chuckled as he began another stack, "but this helps pay the bills."

For the first 6 months after finally returning from San Lorenzo, Miles and Stella used that time to both reconnect with their son and adapt to the culture shock of the city. But by the start of the following year, Miles decided that the best way to put his Anthropology degree to work and help his mom and pop run the boarding house would be to apply for a cultural studies teaching position at the university. Stella meanwhile was hired at the local hospital, which quickly gained her a substantial reputation with her highly skilled medical expertise in disease research. Granted it wasn't as thrilling as being on actual expeditions, but given what he and his wife had already been through it was a much needed change.

Miles took a pause from grading and glanced over at a picture frame on his desk. It was the first photo of the whole family reunited after San Lorenzo. He smiled for a moment observing Arnold hugging a surprised yet smiling Helga, but then he soon frowned.

"I will always regret walking out that front door, Arnold," he said to no one in particular, "Your mom and I missed so much and look at you now, you'll soon be entering high school."

His eyes then shifted to Helga.

"Stella and I are forever in debt to you, Helga," he continued, "I don't think there will ever be enough 'thank yous' that will compensate for what you did for our family."

His thoughts were soon broken with a knock on his classroom door. This surprised him as he wasn't expecting anyone until his afternoon class.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened revealing an overweight man dressed in a black sweater vest and pants.

"Um, Dr. Miles Shortman, I presume?" said the man in a British accent.

"Yes," Miles answered, "Can I help you?"

"Oh jolly good," smiled the man shaking his hand, "how do you do? Seymour Hately."

* * *

 _Sunset Arms_

The walk from school wasn't as smooth as Arnold and Helga initially thought as they found themselves instead bolting inside the old brick building from a freezing rain that appeared halfway on the trek there. Before anyone could get a 'hello' out of them, they raced to the fireplace to dry and thaw out.

"Cold out there, Short Man?" Phil teased, "told ya you should've brought an umbrella today."

"G-Grandpa," Arnold shivered while sending him an annoyed look.

"Oh I'm just pushing your buttons, Short Man. Your mom's got some hot cocoa ready in the kitchen. I'll fetch you and your little lady friend a cup."

"Thanks Phil," Helga grinned smugly.

"And stop calling me Phil!", he called back, which gave the young couple a good laugh.

About a few hours later, Stella and Gertie began to serve up dinner, while everyone talked about their day. Stella had predicted that Helga would be joining them, so she prepared more food than usual. Which she didn't mind at all, as Helga was a regular guest at the dinner table. Heck, she might as well be a member of the family at that point.

"So you guys," said Miles, "how was school?"

"Better than the rest of the week," Helga huffed, "I speak for everyone when I say we were going stir crazy with all this stupid state testing."

"She's not wrong," agreed Arnold, "on the upside, no homework or anything this weekend, so we can all do something if you're not busy."

"Tomorrow I think both your mom and I are free," smiled Miles, "Sunday I have a meeting, but other that, I'm game for anything."

"What meeting?" asked Stella, as she sat down at the table.

"Oh somebody from some archeology project in Egypt came into my classroom today and wanted to discuss some things," Miles replied.

This caused Arnold to freeze and a worried look crossed his face.

"Don't worry, Arnold," his father assured, "they're not asking me to go there. He just wanted to talk about giving presentations in my classes. This meeting is just to get the details ironed out."

Arnold, and everyone else for that matter, gave a huge sigh of relief. They for sure did not want to go through all that again.

"Well, enough of all the small talk," Helga quickly said as she grabbed a napkin, "Bring on the burritos!"

"The girl with the caterpillar on her face is right," said Oskar as he reached for the food, "let's dig….OW!"

"No stinking way, you bum!" shouted Ernie after he swatted Oksar's hand with his own, "for that little insult to Helga, you get yours last!"

"And no seconds!" agreed Mr. Hyunh, "I don't know how you are still able to live here after Suzie left! You're still not a good person!"

As the three men continued their shouting match, the rest of the family just continued eating.

Just another night at Sunset Arms.

* * *

Meanwhile, a city bus was making its way across town. One particular passenger sat towards the back as he watched the city buildings pass by. His long brown hair was tied into a short ponytail and his prison attire was traded for a black hoodie and jeans. A large backpack accompanied him, filled with fresh clothes and supplies provided by his mysterious new employer.

"Everything is still standing," Clint said to himself, "surprised the whole block hasn't been turned into a shopping mall. Almost feels like I was never gone."

' _Almost, right.'_

"Sunset Arms," called the bus driver. Clint then gathered his things and quickly stepped off. A wave of both nostalgia and cringe came over him as found himself on the stoop.

"Even this dump is still here," he said, "I don't get why Blubber-Boy is having me stay here. They're just gonna slam the door in my face. That or Pop sold it and moved to Florida."

He stared at the green wooden door for a few more minutes, trying to comprehend that his exile from there would hopefully be over. "Well, here goes nothing."

As the residents of the boarding house continued eating, a loud knock was heard on the front door.

"Now who could that be at this hour?" Miles said as he got up to answer it. When he did, his face went instantly pale as he saw a face he swore to himself he would never see again, so long as he continued to live and breathe.

"Hey Little Bro, what's shaking? Can a guy get a room?"

* * *

 **A/N:** And thus the first full chapter to this story is complete. See if you can spot the little nods to **"A Slice of Life"** by **CallMeNettie** and **"Body Issues"** by **Kryten**. Give both of those stories a read!

I am very surprised by all the positive feedback on the prologue and that there are people interested in where this goes. As I've stated, updates will be semi-slow, but I will try to post more frequently than I want to.

This chapter is named after the song **"Innocent Exile"** off **Iron Maiden's** 1981 album, **"Killers"**.


	3. The Prisoner

**Chapter 2 – The Prisoner**

Miles wasn't sure what to think. Surprise? Shock? Fear? He probably felt a combination of all three, as there, standing in front of him was none other than his older brother, a face he hadn't seen since junior high school. Clint couldn't help but smirk at Miles' expense.

"C-C-Clint?!" was all Miles could muster.

"In the flesh," smirked Clint, "been a while hasn't it?"

Hearing his father's voice echo back into the kitchen, Arnold raced to the front door to see what the matter was.

"Dad?" he questioned, "is everything alrig-?"

Arnold could barely finish the word before Miles turned back, blocking Clint from his sight.

"Anrold, take Helga up to your room and lock the door," he instructed, "Now."

"Dad, what's going on?"

"I said _NOW_ , Arnold!" Miles bellowed. Having yet to experience him yell like that, Arnold obeyed and ran back to get his girlfriend.

"Arnold, what the heck was that about?" Helga asked, just as confused as he was.

"I don't know, Helga," he answered as they headed towards the stairs, "but it must be serious if Dad is tensed up like that."

As they headed towards his room, Helga took a brief second to glance back and her eyes widened in bewilderment as she saw Clint. _'There's no way!'_ she thought.

With the two teens gone, Miles turned back to Clint who was still smirking.

"Hey, it's freezing out here," he said, "do you mind if I step in for a hot minute to thaw?"

"Hold it right there!" came the thunderous voice of Ernie as he marched up to the door with his large wooden mallet with the rest of the family and boarders looking on in shock, "I speak for everyone in this house when I say that you have exactly 10 seconds to have that jailbird ass of yours vacate the premises with your nuts in tact! 1!"

"Ernie, that isn't necessary," Miles coaxed.

"2!"

"You haven't changed at all, have you Demolition Man?" Clint commented.

"3!"

"Alright, that's enough!" shouted Phil. Seeing the issue escalate, he had snapped out of his initial shock and snatched the mallet from Ernie before he could swing it.

"What the hell are you doing, Gramps?!"

But Phil was not having it. He had no patience to deal with Ernie's antics when he now had to deal with his supposedly inmate son.

"Ernie, go wait in the kitchen with the others," Phil ordered, "Stella, you check on the Short Man and Helga. Miles and I will handle this."

No one said a word and did as instructed. Phil's steely eyes bored into his first born, doing his best to affirm dominance. Clint wasn't fazed however; he had seen things ten times worse in his 15+ years in prison. This just felt like child's play. Miles glanced back and forth between his dad and brother, clearly wishing this "family reunion" is all a dream.

"You have some nerve showing your face around here, Clint," Phil said darkly.

"Great to see you too, Pop," Clint replied sarcastically.

"You watch how you speak to me!" Phil snapped, "You're lucky I'm letting you stand there! Now why are you here? The last time I checked, you were rotting away in prison!"

"Why Pop, I'm hurt," Clint feigned before he squeezed the bridge of his nose, "look, I not gonna stand here and deny all the terrible shit I did all those years ago and waltz in here like everything's shits, rainbows and sunshine. I did my time and got let out on good behavior and with parole, shockingly. Being in prison really made me reflect on my life and if I ever got out, I was gonna slam the reset button. I even found a job and apartment on the other side of town and I just need a place to stay until I can actually move in there. It'd just be a few weeks, a month at most. I'll even pay rent. You name the price and I'll pay it."

Of course, this was only half true. He did have a job, one that was under Seymour. However, Seymour had set him up with a job that would erase any suspicions.

"Hmmm," Phil eyed him, "what is this job?"

"It's a custodial job," Clint quickly replied, "just something to help me get back on my feet. Here, I even have the documents to prove it."

Phil snatched the paper from Clint and began to look it over. Miles leaned over his shoulder to get a good look. Clint could only silently pray that they bought it.

"It looks legitimate, Dad," Miles shrugged, "I don't see anything else otherwise. I think he's serious about wanting to start over. I'm not saying I trust him 100%, but it's only for a month. What could happen?"

Phil looked at his second born and could see as clear as day as to where Arnold inherited most of his attributes in looking for the best in everyone and believing in second chances. However, the 'what ifs' kept circling around in his aging mind. Was Clint telling the truth? Had he'd changed his ways and wanted to start over? Or was he going to draw a weapon on them the second they let their guard down and kill everyone? The answers weren't there. Feeling like he had no other choice, he looked back at Clint and sighed.

"I know deep in my old bones I'm making a huge mistake," he said, "but you can stay Clint."

" _WHAT_?!" echoed Ernie, Oskar and Hyunh's voices from the kitchen, causing in the Shortman to cringe all at once.

"You can stay," Phil hurried before he could be bombarded by the boarders, "Miles will show you your room and you'll stay there until we can discuss your rent."

"Sure thing, Pop," Clint grinned as the two brothers headed up the staircase while Phil attended to the shouting and protests from the 3 stooges.

' _That was easier than I thought'_ , Clint thought smugly.

* * *

Up in his bedroom, Arnold did exactly as his dad ordered and locked the door, while Helga went up and locked his sky roof just in case. Once that was done, they sat down on his couch, still trying to process what was going on downstairs.

"It doesn't make any sense," Arnold wondered, "I don't think I've ever seen him so petrified in his life. Not to mention yell like that."

"Well, I kinda got a glance of the guy at the door and call me crazy," Helga said, "but he looked eerily similar to both him and your grandpa. I think he might have a brother."

"That's impossible!" Arnold stammered, "There's no way. Grandma and Grandpa had my dad late and I know for a fact he's their only son. If he had a brother, they would've told me a long time ago."

"Football Head, relax," Helga said, placing her hand on his shoulder, "this is just an assumption. We'll find out when everyone explains everything. Heh, normally you're the one telling everyone to be level-headed in situations like this."

"I must be slipping then," Arnold smirked as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, "maybe you can give me a refresher."

"Gladly," Helga smirked in return, "Lesson 1."

No sooner had they locked lips, a knock was heard instantly ruining the moment.

"Oh, crimeny," Helga groaned, "every freaking time."

"Arnold? Helga?" came Stella's voice on the other side, "can you let me in please?"

"I don't know, Stella," quipped Helga, "you don't have a lunatic pointing a weapon at you, do you?"

"No, I do not," she replied, "Phil wanted me to check on you two."

Arnold then got up, unlocked the door and let her in, relieved that what Helga described a second ago wasn't there. Stella then pulled up his desk chair and sat next to the young couple.

"You have any idea what's going on, Mom?" Arnold asked. Stella just shrugged.

"I'm just as lost as you are, Arnold," she answered, "I just hope your father and grandpa can handle it like they say they can."

The next few minutes felt like an eternity. Helga's earlier comment soon began to resonate with them and all three began to worry. Finally, Miles poked his head through the now open door and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Miles then walked into the room, followed by the two elder Shortmans, both with sorrowful expressions on their faces. Gertie sat herself on Arnold's bed, but remained silent as the two Shortman men stood in front of the trio on the couch.

"You're probably wondering what all that was about," Miles began and sighed, "there's no way either one of us can sugarcoat it. That man was my brother, Clint. He's your uncle, Arnold; and your brother-in-law, Stella."

To say the three felt completely shocked was an understatement. Helga may have guessed it, but the weight of the reveal felt like being hit with a sledgehammer.

"W-What?" Arnold stammered, "I have an uncle?! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Now Arnold, calm down," said Phil, "We will explain everything. I had hoped to never tell you about him, but I guess that wasn't going to happen. I guess every family has it's skeletons in the closet. Heh heh."

No one laughed at his little joke.

"Anyways," he continued, "I've told you that your grandma and I had your father late. Well, that's only half-true. Clint is actually our first born child, about 6 years before Miles. Growing up, he was a lot like you Arnold. Kind, helpful, optimistic, and smart. And when Miles was born, they were attached at the hip. Clint would do anything for him and loved him very much. But, something happened by the time he turned 15 years old. At first we thought it was just typical teenage rebellion for the sake of it. But it soon became apparent that his entire personality had begun to change. He would back talk to us, flat out curse out at us, skip school and just became nasty…and a tad violent."

Stella gasped at this.

"Not that he'd hit us," Phil clarified, "it was the other things he was doing. We'd get calls from the police late at night saying he was at the station downtown. We'd be told he was caught for shoplifting, assault, and all sorts of crimes. We soon learned that he had joined a local gang and…and…"

Miles sighed.

"One day when I was 11, I was helping dad collect rent and while I was doing that, went into Clint's room to turn off the lamp he left on in his room. That's when I felt a loose floor board under his carpet and found a small stock pile of cocaine within it. Not even a minute later, he caught me and threatened me not to tell, but it wasn't needed as Mom heard the commotion and saw everything. Needless to say, Dad was furious and told him to burn all of it and then threw him out. That was the last time I saw him."

No one said a word, anxiously waiting for Miles to continue. Gertie could say or do nothing as she let a tear escape her eye.

"Then while I was in San Lorenzo, about a month before I met you Stella, I got a letter from Dad telling me about a shootout out by the Elk Island…"

"The Pier Shootout of '96," Arnold said and it then dawn on him, "oh no."

"Yep," confirmed Phil, "not only was he involved, he instigated it. He shot two members of a rival gang; all for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When I got the call from the police, I told them 'I only have one son' and hung up. All Pookie and I could do was watch on the news of the courts saying he was guilty and was hauled off to prison. It was hard on us all, but when we heard Miles had met Stella and was planning on marrying her, we decided that we could move passed this horrible and tragic time for our family and begin anew. You being born Arnold, helped that."

It was all a lot to take in. All this time, there was another family member they knew nothing about. But they couldn't fault Miles, Phil or Gertie. They had good legitimate reasons to keep this dark family secret from them. This man clearly brought shame to the Shortman family and having him appear at the front door out of the blue just brought all of the feelings of shame, sorrow and regret back. Especially to Gertie who at this point had started letting more tears fall. No one said anything more as they all gathered around her on Arnold's bed, all embracing each other in comfort.

* * *

As the rest of the Shortman family was processing the weight of the situation, Clint was busy getting himself settled into his room. It was really small compared to the rest with just a bed and closet, but he didn't mind at all. He looked out into the hallway to make sure no one was around before closing and locking the door. It was then he pulled out a cell phone that was given to him by Seymour as a way to keep him up to date with their plans and dialed for him.

"Hello, Clint," he heard on the other end, "what's the latest?"

"It was like taking candy from you Blubber Boy," Clint replied.

"I've told you, please do not call me that," Seymour groaned.

"Whatever," Clint said, "but yeah, I'm in the house. They gave me a room and everything…with rent too."

"That shouldn't be a problem," said Seymour, "so long as everything goes according to plan."

"You don't have to worry about that. And son of bitch, you weren't kidding. My own nephew is one of them!"

"Ah yes. Patience. He is one of the biggest threats to our plans. Are you sure you can gain his trust?"

"With him? That shouldn't be too hard. He looks naïve enough. And it looks like the Loyalty one is his girlfriend or something."

"Oh this is just perfect. The master will be pleased. I'll be in touch."

And with that he hung up, leaving Clint alone with his thoughts. It was then a knock was heard on his door. He answered to find his father and brother waiting for him.

"Alright Clint," said Phil, "Let's discuss rent."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks again to all the reviews on the last chapter. Went through a bit of a funk a few weeks ago, hence the long wait this time around. Hopefully life doesn't rear it ugly head again until then.**

 **I should note that while there will be Shortaki moments sprinkled through out this story, the Shortman family are the main focal point.**

 **Also, this is just a thing I did with OCs, I tend to seek out "voice actors" for these characters mainly just to get a voice playing in my head when I write. I picture Clint being "voiced" by Robert Downey, Jr. and Seymour by Timothy Spall.**

 **This chapter's title is named after "The Prisoner" from Iron Maiden's "The Number of the Beast" (1982) album.**


	4. Moonchild

**Chapter 3 - Moonchild**

Arnold woke up the next morning feeling exhausted. In fact, so did most of the boarding house. The previous night's events left everyone with a very sleepless night, and if they ever did manage to get some sleep, they would toss and turn as thoughts of what had occurred plagued their minds.

Arnold slowly made his way out of his room as to not wake up Helga, who was currently sleeping on his couch after gaining permission to stay the night. He made his way to the kitchen, somewhat not surprised to see nobody there, not that he blamed them. With a yawn, he helped himself to a bowl of cereal and orange juice, hoping that would help wake him up and get the day rolling. As he ate, he began to think about what his dad and grandpa told him about his newly discovered uncle. All this time, he had a family member that was locked up in prison, but he knew that he deserved to end up there after his crimes. True to his nature, however, he believed in giving others another chance and his uncle would be no exception and judging by how his grandpa had allowed him to stay, it seemed that was case.

He was taken out of his thoughts when said uncle waltzed into the kitchen, looking for some breakfast himself.

"Good morning," he said as he opened the refrigerator.

"Morning," replied Arnold, not diverting his eyes from him. He told himself he would give Clint a chance, but at the same time he couldn't help himself feeling all tensed up in his presence.

"I don't believe we had a proper introduction last night," Clint began as he sat at the table, "as you probably already know, I'm your Uncle Clint. And you are?"

Arnold slowly turned his gaze towards him, feeling himself feel a little intimidated by him. The tattoo of the logo of the black metal band Darkthrone didn't help either. After a few minutes of silence with Clint giving him a puzzled look, Arnold finally managed to find his voice.

"I-I'm Arnold, your nephew," he mustered.

"Wow, it talks," Clint joked, but sighed and stopped eating, "listen, I'm sure Pop and my little bro have told you everything about my past, yadda yadda yadda. I really do want to get my life on the right track again and I don't mind if it takes until the moment I die to get everyone to fully trust me again, but all I can ask is for you to be patient with me, okay?"

"I guess," Arnold replied, "I can't really say too much, because I don't really know you at all outside of what Dad and Grandpa have told me."

"Understandable," Clint said, "I won't be around for too long, but I do hope we see each other after I move out."

It was then that Ernie, Mr. Hyunh and Oskar all walked in, each giving Clint a sneer when they saw him sitting next to Arnold.

"Well, I can tell when I'm not wanted," Clint said, "I'll finish breakfast in my room then."

When he was out of sight, the three boarders all sat around Arnold.

"Listen Arnold," Ernie said firmly, "you stay away from that scumbag. He's nothing but trouble. And I know you have your thing about looking for the good in everyone and all that mumbo jumbo, but I'm being dead serious. You stay away from him, you hear me?"

"Yes, he's a very bad person!" agreed Mr. Hyunh, "he makes Oskar look like a saint!"

"Yes, that right" began Oskar, but caught what Mr. Hyunh had said, "Hey!"

"Ernie, I get what you're saying," said Arnold, "I know he's done some terrible things in the past, but can we at least try to look past that? Anyways, I'm gonna go shower. Helga and I are supposed to meet Gerald and Phoebe later."

"He's a no good trouble maker, Arnold!" Ernie called after the boy as Arnold headed up stairs, "I'm telling you, stay away from him!"

He then turned back to the other boarders.

"I can't believe Gramps is letting that convict stay here," he sighed, "but at least it's only a month. What's the worst that can happen?"

"Famous last words, Ernie," Mr. Hyunh said as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

* * *

Back in Arnold's room, Helga felt the warmth of the sun through the glass ceiling and slowly began to wake up.

"Criminy," she groaned, "I feel like I've been wacked by a sledgehammer. I barely could sleep last night. How about you, Football Head?"

There was no reply.

"Arnold?" she asked again and turned to see there was no one in his bed.

"Must've woken up a little bit ago," she yawned and made her way to the bathroom. As she did, she saw for the first time in full view, Clint as he made his way back to his room with a bowl in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other.

"Morning," he said when he noticed her, "I'm Clint, you are?"

"Helga G. Pataki," she said crossing her arms, "your nephew's girlfriend, and don't you forget it."

"Oh, I won't," Clint said sarcastically as fumbled to open his door.

"I mean it, Bucko," she warned, "I'll be watching you and if I find out you've either hurt or corrupted Arnold is some form or another, I will not hesitate to introduce you to Old Betsy."

She extended her fist in front of his face to prove her point. Clint just let out a snort.

"Oh, I'm shaking in my boots," he rolled his eyes, "You don't frighten me, kid. I've met scarier people back in Walla Walla."

"Your prison, I assume," Helga raised an eyebrow, "that explains the tattoo."

"Hey, don't be dissin' the Darkthrone," Clint retorted, "I got this about a year before I was sentenced. Check out the 'Transylvanian Hunger' album when you get the chance; real dark stuff. I wonder if they're still putting stuff out?"

"Don't change the subject," Helga said, "I mean it, pal. If I have let to Old Betsy off her chain because of something you did to Arnold or the rest of the family, I will have you begging for mercy."

"Well, you're a loyal one, aren't you?" Clint replied, dripping with sarcasm once again, "cross my heart, hope to die, I won't do anything to your boyfriend. Now if you'll excuse me, my cereal is getting soggy."

And with that he went into his room and shut the door.

"Asshole," Helga muttered under breath as she continued her trek to the bathroom.

* * *

Later that day, Arnold and Helga found themselves up in Mighty Pete, waiting for Gerald and Phoebe to arrive. They had made plans to spend the day together and hang out. Arnold lounged in the bean bag chair reading a comic book, as Helga sat by the window with a paddleball in hand. Soon the unmistakable stack of black curly hair poked its way through the treehouse entrance, as Gerald and Phoebe joined their friends. Gerald immediately sensed the mood.

"Whoa, what's up with you two?" he asked as he and Arnold did their handshake.

"A lot," Arnold said.

"More like the bombshell of the century," said Helga.

"Bombshell?" Phoebe wondered, "do tell."

"Well," Arnold began, "last night at dinner we kinda had an unexpected visitor."

"Really?" Gerald wondered, "well judging by the way you two look, it must've been bad."

"Massive understatement there, Gerald-o," Helga said, "apparently the Football Head has had an uncle in prison for the last 15-20 years that only his dad and grandpa knew about. I tell ya, the guy's a real asshole."

"You're kidding!" Phoebe gasped, "Arnold is that true?"

"Yeah, it is," Arnold sighed, "he was sent to prison after instigating the Pier Shootout of '96."

Phoebe was, needless to say, completely shocked by this sudden news, but Gerald's poker face for some reason didn't falter.

"You don't seem that surprised, Tall Hair Boy," Helga observed, "it's almost as if…"

"You knew?! How?!" Arnold exclaimed, quite shocked and a bit disappointed that his best bud kept this from him.

"Now hold on, Arnold," Gerald raised his hands in defense, "I only knew from my man Fuzzy Slippers when he first told me all my urban legends. Believe me, I was just as shocked as you all are when he told me, but I didn't feel it was my place to say anything about it, so I kept mute about it."

"I guess you're right," Arnold sighed, "sorry for snapping at you."

"It's alright, buddy. You're still soaking it all in. I don't blame ya."

"So how are your family handling the situation?" asked Phoebe.

"Dad and Grandpa are letting him stay for about a month or so until he's able to move into his apartment across town," Arnold replied, "I don't honestly don't know what to think though. I want to give him the benefit of doubt, but…"

"But don't, Arnold," Helga cut him off, "I ran into him right after I had woken up and the guy was a total asshole. I'd avoid him like the plague."

"She's got a point, Arnold," Gerald agreed, "but I think it'd be best to let you decide on that."

"I suppose," shrugged Arnold.

"Well, how about we put this behind us and let's go throw rocks at Helga while she throws rock in the lake," Gerald joked, knowing that would get them moving.

"Hey!" Helga laughed and playfully punched him in the arm.

"I'm just messing with ya," laughed Gerald, "come on, let's go ice skating."

Everyone just laughed and made their way towards the city lake.

* * *

As the day progressed, Clint began to mosey around the boarding house, seeing how much the place had changed, if at all. So far the only major difference he could find was the addition of Arnold's room, something he was immediately impressed with.

"Mom and Pop sure spoiled him," he said to himself as he observed the high-tech stereo system. He soon began to make his way down the hall towards the living room when noticed Ernie carrying a large, and what appeared to be a very heavy package.

"Hey Demolition Man," he said.

"What do you want?" Ernie snapped as he struggled with the box.

"Need a hand with that? You look like you're about to drop it on your foot."

"No thanks ya scumbag," Ernie snapped again, "I can handle it myself."

As if on cue, the box slipped from his hands and landed right on his right foot.

"Ow! Marone!" he exclaimed as he grasped his foot in pain, "alright, you can help me carry this to my room, but don't think this changes anything."

"Wasn't expecting you to," Clint said as he grabbed one side of the box.

Later, he came across Mr. Hyunh and Oskar who were playing checkers in the living room.

"Howdy fellas," he said, "how's tricks?"

"It was fine until you walked in," said Oskar.

"Ouch," replied Clint rolling his eyes, "have you seen Pop and Miles anywhere?"

"They're downstairs in the basement," answered Mr. Hyunh, "water heater broke again."

"That explains my turbulent shower temperature earlier. Thanks."

Once again when he was out of sight, the two boarders looked at each other.

"He still gives me the creeps," Mr. Hyunh said, "your move."

"I agree," said Oskar, "hey look I win! Ehehehehe!"

"Oskar!"

Down in the basement, Clint found Phil and Miles hard at work on the water heater, a process that always seemed to take forever to fix.

"Dagnabbit!" Phil said, "this is the fourth time in the past 2 months this thing has gone out. We always think it's fixed and then boom! Out again."

"I don't know either, Dad," said Miles, "best thing we can do is duct tape a few things inside for now and get a plumper or somebody."

"I can take a crack at it," said Clint, catching them both off guard.

"You?" asked Phil totally not believing he can fix it, "if you want to, be my guest."

Clint shrugged and took Miles' flashlight and looked inside the heater.

"Jesus, Pop what have you done to this thing?" he observed, "no wonder this thing it out, you've let the anode rod get all corroded, which is ironic since it's supposed to prevent that. You replace that and it should be good as new. I'd take off the duct tape too so the glue doesn't corrode all the pipes either."

"Well, I'll be," said Phil astonished, "how did you figure that out?"

"They made me the heater maintainer in Walla Walla for a couple years," Clint shrugged, "amazing you can learn a few trades in prison."

"Yeah, really something," Phil said sarcastically, not appreciating Clint's smugness, "Okay, Miles I'll call a plumber and get that taken care of."

"Alright Dad," said Miles, "I should clean myself up anyways; I have that meeting with Mr. Hartley in a couple hours."

"I thought that was tomorrow?" Phil asked.

"He emailed me last night about a scheduling mix up or something like that," Miles explained, "so I had to cancel whatever plans I was going to do with Arnold today for it."

"What's the meeting about, if you don't mind me asking?" Clint wondered, not letting on that Seymour had told him his true plans.

"Oh just something about class presentations at various schools around town," explained Miles, "I think he said something about a possible field trip to his archeological site in Egypt, but I doubt that'll happen. If it does go through, it'd be a fun trip, I suppose. Always wanted to go to Egypt."

"Interesting," Clint quipped, "nerdy, but interesting."

As the three men headed upstairs, Miles and Phil didn't notice the smug grin on Clint's face.

' _If I keep playing my cards right'_ , he thought to himself, _'I'll be able to join you on Blubber Boy's little 'field trip'. And just maybe have a little fun of my own, too.'_

* * *

 **A/N: Nothing too much exciting here. Really just needed something with Arnold meeting his uncle and how the other boarders are taking this situation. One step at a time, folks.**

 **This chapter is named after the song "Moonchild", the first track from Iron Maiden's 1988 album "Seventh Son of a Seventh Son".**


	5. The Mercenary

**Chapter 4 – The Mercenary**

Much of the weekend went by faster than the boarders had expected given the bombshell that was bestowed upon them. By Monday, everyone had accepted the fact that Clint was staying for a while, but could only hope the month would go by in a blur.

Most everyone was up and about, ready to start the new school/work week. Miles normally slept in a little on Mondays as his first class wasn't until later in the afternoon. By this time, Arnold had already left for school and Stella's shift at the hospital had begun, however Miles had others plans set for the morning.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry," Clint asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"I'm supposed to be meeting Mr. Hartley at Arnold's school in about an hour," Miles explained, "we have schools mapped out for presentations, now we just have to meet with the principals on setting up dates. I would've taken Arnold today, but I missed my alarm.

"Seems a little redundant to have a meeting about having meetings," Clint chuckled.

"You can say that again," Miles grinned, grabbed his brief case and left.

"Whatever you're planning, Blubber Boy," Clint said to himself, "you better not drag this out longer than it needs to be."

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost failed to notice the burning smell in the kitchen.

"Oh fuck, my toast!"

* * *

Arnold was thankful that the city's surprisingly large gossip mill didn't make it around school as was able to keep the weekend's event between himself, Helga, Gerald and Phoebe. This allowed him to relax and focus on his classes; at least that's what he told himself. As he stopped by his locker to grab books for his 3rd period, he sensed someone was behind him, expecting it to be Helga or Gerald, but to his surprise…

"Hey there, sport," said Miles as he approached him.

"Dad?" Arnold asked, "what are you doing here?"

"Supposed to meet with Mr. Hartley and Principal Simmons about those presentations," Miles explained.

"Seems a little redundant, don't you think?" Arnold said.

"Heh, you're uncle said the same thing before I left," Miles laughed.

The mentioning of Clint, made the conversation feel awkward.

"Anyways," Miles said, changing the subject, "What time's your lunch period?"

"11:30," Arnold answered, "probably the only time Helga, Gerald, Phoebe and I can hang out at once."

"Great! I'll ask Principal Simmons and I'll take you guys to Slausen's. My treat."

"Cool. Thanks, Dad."

And with that they went their separate ways.

* * *

Inside in the Principal's office with Seymour, Miles took a moment to take in the surroundings. Although he suspected that Robert Simmons was a kind hearted individual, he still couldn't help but to chuckle a bit at all the hippie paraphernalia all over the office.

About a year after the San Lorenzo trip (and much needed therapy), Robert began to take notes from Principal Wartz at P.S.118 and began to have a much more firm control of the students, but still treated them as individuals. Eventually, he felt he needed a change and applied for the principal opening at Hillwood Jr. High and landed it on the spot. His reputation from P.S.118 didn't go unnoticed from most of the students and were thankful for that, as opposed to having an even worse Wartz clone.

"Sorry for the wait there," Robert said as he sat down, "had a…little situation on the other side of the campus that needed addressing."

"That's quite alright, Mr. Simmons," said Seymour, "now, let's get this rolling shall we? As I've said, I represent an archeology expedition in Egypt and I have been tasked by my superiors to give educational presentations of the expedition with the possibility of arranging an overseas field trip to the site."

At the mention of the words 'field trip', Robert felt himself tense up a bit and sent a knowing glance at Miles.

"Something wrong?" asked Seymour.

"Oh, sorry," said Robert, regaining his composure, "it's just…the last time a field trip like this happened, my class and I ended up being lured into a trap by river pirates, so you'll have to excuse my hesitation here."

"Oh. Wow," Seymour said, taken aback, "that had to be an interesting experience. Glad you made it out of there safely."

"Yeah, the pirate leader set up a whole fake contest in San Lorenzo (that I kick myself for not checking its authenticity) mainly just to get Miles' son, Arnold, to find some valuable treasure for him, saying he was a 'child of the volcano'".

This piece of information caught Seymour by surprise. This was something he didn't expect.

"The Corazon of the Green-Eyed People," Miles added, "but it least it all worked out in the end. If that hadn't of happen, my wife and I would still be under the sleeping sickness in their hidden city."

"Fascinating," Seymour said in awe, _'Incredible! Not only is this child the one of Patience, he's the Silencer of Nature! This just makes thing more interesting.'_

"Anyways, we're getting off track," Robert said, "I think this is a great idea to for you to come in as guest speakers in our geography class rooms for each grade. As far as dates to have them, I think the best day could be next three Fridays. Would that work?"

Miles and Seymour looked at each other and nodded.

"Sure," said Seymour and wrote it down in his notebook, "and the field trip idea?"

"Give me some time to think about it," said Robert, "but we'll see."

"I can assure you, there are no river pirates here," Seymour chuckled, "everything with my organization checks out."

"I'll take your word for it, but again, we'll see. If there's nothing else that needs to be discussed, I bid you a good day."

"Thank you, Principal Simmons," Seymour said, "we'll be in touch."

As the two men left, Robert felt himself slump back in his chair, the memories of the San Lorenzo trip still fresh in his mind.

"If I do this," he said to himself, "I really, _really_ hope it's not a repeat of that trip. I'll ask what Peter thinks when I get home."

Just then Miles poked his head through the door.

"I almost forgot," he said, "is it okay that I take Arnold and his friends out for lunch?"

* * *

"Thanks for taking us to lunch, Mr. Shortman," said Phoebe as she took a sip of her soda.

"My pleasure," smiled Miles, "and you can call me Miles. You're among friends here."

Now at Slausen's, Miles now able to make-up for the quality time with Arnold they weren't able to do on Saturday. Having his best friends there added the moment, something he more than thankful for to do now.

"So how'd things go with Principal Granola Boy?" smirked Helga, which resulted in a playful elbow jab from Arnold.

"Pretty good, I think", Miles shrugged, "Mr. Hartley and I will be doing our thing for your grade a couple weeks from now. He's given me everything I need to know about what his expedition and whatnot."

"Better to have you tell us than that boring drone of a geography teacher of ours," said Helga, "who ironically is named Mr. Drone."

"At least he cares about teaching," added Gerald, "remember Mr. Frank in 6th grade? Man, that guy was just done with life."

"I have to agree," piped Phoebe, "I remember when I did trial transfer to his class in 4th grade and he really didn't care about my academic abilities at all."

"That's a shame," Miles said, "I would be honored to have a student with a brain like yours in my class, Phoebe."

"Thank you," she blushed.

It was then that the restaurant door opened and another customer walked in. Everyone looked to see it was Clint, much to their surprise.

"Is that him?" Gerald asked, "I hate to judge, but he definitely looks like an ex-con."

"He should still _be_ a con," Helga retorted. A bit too loudly in fact as this brought Clint's attention to them.

"Well, well, well, ain't this a coincidence," he said walking over to them, "busting your kid and his buddies out of school, little bro? I admire that."

"For your information, bucko," Helga sneered, "Your 'little bro' kindly invited us to lunch with permission from the school, thank you very much."

"Helga," Arnold glared, "so what brings you here?"

"Well, I was on my way to my new _job_ ," Clint said, putting emphasis on the word 'job' in front of Helga, "when I saw that this place was still in business and I wanted a milkshake before I start my shift. Is there a problem with that?"

Helga snarled, but wisely held her tongue. She and Clint's eyes locked on each other, as they threw daggers at one another. Noticing the tension, Arnold worked his 'magic' and spoke up.

"Oh, that's good," Arnold said, "will you be back at the boarding house for dinner?"

That amazingly made everyone relax.

"Nah," Clint replied, "my shifts are supposed to end around 9, so I'll be back late for most of my time there. Well, I don't want to waste your free time anymore. I'll just grab my shake and vamoose."

And with that, he left.

"Mmm, mmm mmm," said Gerald as he resumed eating, "that guy makes Frankie G look tame."

"You're telling me," agreed Arnold, "when I first came face-to-face with him the other day, I was practically frozen in place, I was so scared."

"Well, I can understand where you're coming from, sport," sympathized Miles, "having to grow up with him was not a pleasant experience. Well, enough of this, lunch hour is almost up, let's get you guys back to school."

Outside as Clint walked to the nearest bus stop, he quickly dialed Seymour.

"Hey, it's me," he said, "yeah, I think the loyal one is going to be a problem."

* * *

Robert was glad to be home after a long Monday at work. Happy to be home with his now happily married love Peter and their young son, Ricky, who they adopted shortly after they finally tied the knot. His special little family. Ricky was in the 3rd grade at P.S.118, and had a tendency to place video games over schoolwork and was often caught bringing his Gameboy to school. Normally he was very mild-mannered, but whenever he lost a game, lots of pent up rage would turn him into…a 'special problem', as Robert would put it.

"Peter, I'm home," he announced as he walked in.

"Hey dear," Peter replied, sitting in front of the main TV, "how was work?"

"Long," was all Robert could say.

"Sit on down and tell me," said Peter, offering a cushion on the couch next to him.

Robert accepted and kissed him.

"You remember my former student Arnold right?"

"How could I forget," Peter sarcastically, knowingly full well from the San Lorenzo trip.

"Well, his dad came into my office with a guy who's from an expedition in Egypt and wanted to so some presentations about it in some classes, but…"

"But?"

"He brought up the idea of a field trip to it and, I just…got all tensed up."

"Awww, I'm sorry hun," sympathized Peter, pulling him into a hug.

"I'm torn on this. The man said it was legitimate, but given what happened last time."

"Well, if you want my opinion," Peter said, "if you really want to get over this fear of yours, I'd say go for it. Facing it head on, for the most part, helps. Besides, how often do you get the opportunity to go to Egypt?"

"You always know what to say, you know that?" Peter grinned.

"If it helps, Ricky and I could come with you."

"Speaking of which, where is our special guy?"

"He's up in his room," Peter answered, "I told him he couldn't touch his XBOX until all his homework was done."

"Alright then, I'll go check on him. And I like that idea of you two coming along of the trip. I'll phone Arnold's father tomorrow and let him know the trip is on."

"Sounds good to me. You do that and I'll get dinner started."

As Robert made his way up to his son's room, the sounds of Fortnite echoing from the room grew louder and louder with each step. With a respectful knock on the door, a loud "Come in!" answered and he showed himself.

"Hey there, champ," said Robert, "how your day?"

"Eh, same old," Ricky replied, not taking his eyes off the screen, "still doing that boring reading project. And before you ask, I finished my homework on it an hour ago."

"Good. I'm glad you're getting your priorities in order," smiled Robert and sat down on his bed, "I just got offered to go on a school trip to Egypt, would you like to go if it's a go?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Ricky hastily replied, "Dad can we talk later, I'm in the middle of this session and I'm close to winning."

"Okay then," Robert sighed and began to leave, "dinner will be ready in an hour."

As soon as his father started heading back downstairs, all Ricky could do was look on in horror as his character was snipped and killed.

"MOTHERFUCKER!"

"RICKY!"

* * *

 **A/N:** Another world building chapter. The new character will serve a comic relief in later chapters. Hopefully in a few more chapters I can start working on the juicy stuff. Goal is to try and have a new chapter posted once a month.

This chapter is named after the song **"The Mercenary"** from Iron Maiden's **"Brave New World" (2000)** album.


	6. Ithyphallic

**Chapter 5 - Ithyphallic**

"Well, that was the stupidest movie ever!" exclaimed Clint as he fumbled with the remote to turn off Netflix, "can't believe they made the brutal tale of Mayhem into a fucking Disney movie! And they made Euronymous look like a fucking dweeb! 'Lords of Chaos' my fucking ass!"

"Do you have to say that word every 2 seconds?" Miles sighed as he graded papers. Normally he would have them done before he would come home, but with given his meeting with Robert and Seymour the previous day, it put him a day behind and was trying to catch up.

"Oh lighten up, Miles," Clint rolled his eyes, "Mom and Pop ain't here."

"Well, so is my family and the other boarders", Miles said, "You're not the only person here."

"Whatever. So how are things in Nerdland?"

"So far so good," Miles said as he decided to take a break, "I'm supposed to give the first presentations with Mr. Hartley at Arnold's school tomorrow. After that, we'll be meeting with parents and teachers that want to go and set up the trip. Just hopefully we can avoid the subject of San Lorenzo while we're there."

Clint tried his best not to chuckle at that.

"Gee, I can't imagine why." he said sarcastically, "anyways, I gotta get to work. Save me some of what Stella's cooking will ya?"

"Yeah, sure thing," said Miles as he walked upstairs. When Clint was out of earshot, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "This month is gonna crawl."

Clint left the boarding house, thinking the exact same thing.

* * *

Arnold sat in his geography class as he and the rest of the students waited patiently for Miles and Seymour to arrive and begin their presentation on the archaeological site that Seymour was there for. He was glad that his dad was being involved with it and glad that his sense of adventure hadn't gone away since San Lorenzo.

"You guys thinking about going?" Arnold asked the nearest classmates, who just happen to be Gerald, Helga and Phoebe. In fact, most of the gang was in this period. It never ceased to amaze him how they all practically were able to be in at least one class together every year.

"Well, I mentioned it to my dad the other night," said Gerald, "and he said he's considering being a chaperone. He said he always wanted to go there, but I can tell he mainly wants to go because of what happened in San Lorenzo and wants to stay close to me in case something happens again."

"Judging by what Arnold's father has said of Mr. Hartley," replied Phoebe, "this appears more legitimate than the Helpers For Humanity 'contest'".

"I honestly don't really care if it's legit or not," scoffed Helga as she wrote in her notebook, "if Football Head's family are going, I'm going."

Arnold smiled at that. He slipped his leg over to her and at least managed to wrap his foot around her ankle. This caught her off guard and caused her to blush slightly.

"You're such a cornball, Arnoldo," was all she could say.

"Only for you, Helga," Arnold smiled, causing her to blush more.

"You two, I swear," Gerald chuckled, "loyal and mushy to the end."

"Hey, can't say you haven't been like that with Phoebe, Gerald," Arnold grinned.

"Yeah, w-well," Gerald stammered, trying to think of a reason on how their relationship was different, but for once he was glad that thought was interrupted. Their teacher, Mr. Mark Drone was a nice enough man and he loved his job dearly, but half the time no one could possibly tell as he talked in a low, monotone voice that made it feel like the exact opposite.

"Alright class," called Mr. Drone, "please give your full attention to Mr. Hartely and Dr. Shortman. They will be showing a slideshow presentation on the expedition in Egypt Mr. Hartely here works for. You have the floor gentleman."

"Thank you very much for that introduction," said Seymour, who paused for a brief moment to observe the students. _'I don't believe this! All of the Pyramid Angels are here, in this semi-run down American city of all places! Loyalty, Courage, Truth, Tenacious, Strength, Resource, Luck, all of them! Master will be pleased. Keeping them from interfering with our plans is going to be easier than I imagined! It appears the only one that may cause trouble is the Silencer.'_

"Alright then, how many of you are familiar with the ancient pyramids?" he continued.

All of the hands in the class shot up.

"Well, that's a good start. The expedition I work for is run by Dr. Emile Stifen. He has been in this practice since 1989 and is extremely experienced in this field, having made several discoveries over the years that have gained him a considerable amount of respect by scientists the world over. I first met him during an previous expedition to Egypt in the mid 1990s and have been his assistant and right hand man ever since."

The slide showed a man roughly close to Miles' age and appeared of European and Egyptian decent. A short, full beard and big rimmed glasses were stand out features. Seymour clicked to next several slides, which showed the site at work in and around the pyramids and the day-to-day lives of the camp as they continued their work. The last slide however, featured a tattered book with image of a what appeared to be the skull of a pharaoh. Some of the class was intrigued by this, especially Arnold.

"Heh, that almost look like something straight out of an Iron Maiden album cover," Sid chuckled, but no one paid him any attention.

"This here is Dr. Stifen's greatest quest, to search for the ancient text that many have considered to be nothing but myth. According to lore," Seymour explained, "This is known as the Book of Souls. Unlike the more known Book of Dead, which was more for protection of the deceased, this one contained rituals that allowed the reader to control souls that had since passed on into the afterlife. Many have considered this to be of dark magic, namely that if the book fell into the wrong hands, they could assemble an invincible army of the undead and conquer the world!"

He paused and saw that some of the students had been taken aback a bit.

"I apologize for that," he collected himself, "I got a little excited there. I've been very passionate for this find for quite some time."

"That's alright, Mr. Hartley," assured Miles, "now as for the reason Mr. Hartley and I are here, we have been instructed to arrange an overseas trip to the site and see the progress up close and maybe take a tour of the pyramids if time allows. For anyone interested we have sign up sheets here and once we have enough people, we will arrange for chaperons and costs. I will be one, of course. Any questions?"

Naturally, the expressions of most of the class became nervous. Knowing how the San Lorenzo trip, they were understandably unsure if they wanted to sign up, in fear of circumstances happening again.

"This ain't gonna involve us gettin' captured by river pirates, right?" Stinky asked.

 _'Oh brother, here we go,'_ Helga rolled her eyes.

All Arnold could do was facepalm, as his classmates once again put full blame of them being captured by La Sombra on him.

"Funny you mention that, um…what's your name young man?" Seymour asked.

"Stinky."

"Right…Stinky. Anyways, when Dr. Shortman and I met with your principal, he mentioned something to me about a trip to San Lorenzo and pirates. Sounds like quite the adventure, I say."

"Yeah, and a it was all Arnold's fault!" bellowed Harold, "he turned on us to help their lunatic leader!"

"Criminy, Pink Boy," Helga snapped, "can you guys get off Football Head's back already! It's been almost 4 years since San Lorenzo! He was tricked just as much as we all were."

Arnold, again, smiled. It always made him feel grateful whenever Helga came to his defense like that. He would always do the same in return if need be.

"Oh please, Helga," said Rhonda, "you're just saying that because he became your boyfriend after that fiasco. You were just as mad at him as we all were. I recall you saying you wanted to 'knock him into next week'."

"Nobody asked you, Rhonda!" Helga snapped.

"Alright class, settle down," said Mr. Drone, "thank you for your presentation, gentleman. I'd be delighted to join you on this trip."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Done," said Miles, "And to finish answering your question Stinky, no there are no pirates. This is just a regular school trip. Speaking of which, we'll have permission slips placed here at the front desk for anyone wants to sign up."

And with that, the bell rang and everyone made their way to their next periods. Arnold quickly made his way up to the front of the room and immediately put his name on the list. Helga, Gerald and Phoebe followed suit.

"I can always count on you guys, can I?" said Miles.

"Hey, if you're going, we're going," Helga shrugged, "I'm just mostly seeing this as a way to get out of this dump of a city for a while. At least the desert will be better than the jungle."

"Ironic coming from somebody who is known for hating hiking," laughed Arnold.

"Whatever, Hair Boy." Helga said and playfully punched him on the shoulder, "surprisingly I want the rest of the gang to go, sort of a redo of the last trip without all the pirates and nearly falling to our deaths parts."

"You can say that again," Miles laughed, "I'm up for just a simple trip. No surprise kidnappings or any of that sort. I'm spent on that."

 _'Well, I think it's time to come out of retirement then, Dr. Shortman,'_ Seymour though slyly, _'when my master has you where he wants you, you'll wish you were never born!'_

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a tap on his shoulder from Miles.

"Say Seymour, would you like to join my family for dinner tonight?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Well...so much for trying to have a chapter done once a month. I got a new laptop for Christmas and every time I felt any motivation get a new chapter done, it was always part real life bs (i.e. work and getting sick) and part laziness. I will try to update more frequently, but I can't promise anything.

As far as naming this chapter, I decided to use song titles from other bands as finding a good title from solely **Iron Maiden** is getting difficult. For this one, I used the title track from **Nile's Ithyphallic** **(2007)** album.


	7. Birth of the Wicked

**Chapter 6 - Birth of the Wicked**

"Dr. Shortman, I must say this meal you've prepared is exquisite," complimented Seymour as he took another bite of lamb and steak mixed with various peppers and vegetables. He had accepted Miles' offer to join the family for dinner. And given that it was Clint's 'night off', he made sure to check in with him on how things were going once the meal was over. But for now, the two next to each other at the table, and were doing their best as if they met for the first time.

"Just a recipe I learned in San Lorenzo," Stella smiled, "and please call me Stella. I only prefer to be called that when I'm working."

"Of course, Stella," Seymour said and wiped his mouth, "this is quite an historic house you have here. You could have your own dig here if you could."

"No way," Arnold laughed, "we already saved the neighborhood from one wrecking ball, I don't want to to do that again."

"Ah yes, the Future Tech Industries scandal," recalled Seymour, "so that was you that stopped it? I'm just now putting two-and-two together."

"Hey, I was there too, pal," Helga said, slightly offended, "I'm the one who gave the Football Head and Tall Hair Boy the ins and outs to their whole secret agent game."

Even in the classroom earlier that day, Helga took an immediate disliking to Seymour. She couldn't put her finger on it, but given how excited he was when he reached the slide on the ancient book, she began to get a little suspicious.

"I apologize," said Seymour, "my mistake."

"Whatever," Helga said. It was then she noticed that he kept sending side glances to Clint, who was paying no attention to the conversation as he ate. "So, Blubberboy," she continued, "have how often do you get 'over excited' during slideshow presentations?"

Hearing that nickname caused Clint to snicker a bit, to which Seymour gave him a quick warning glare. This did not go unnoticed by Helga.

"Oh…uh...well," Seymour tried to explain inconspicuously, "well, I guess one can be very passionate about their work can they? It's just a topic I've found very…interesting over the years."

"Uh huh," she said, not totally believing him, "so what's the real purpose of the dig? I mean given that it's a book that can raise the dead apparently."

That's when she noticed Seymour tighten his grip slightly on his silverware nervously."

Helga," Arnold said, slightly annoyed.

"What? I'm just asking a question, Arnold," she said, feigning offense.

"Oh no, it's nothing really," Seymour said, doing his best to lie, "it's just like all digs really. Trying to discover something and put in a museum for all to see and learn about the past. Nothing much really. I mean, it's not like Dr. Stifen is on a quest to rule the earth, rig- OW!"

Clint had thought Seymour had said enough and gave his shin a quick kick to shut him up. Helga again noticed this, raising her suspicions even more, but decided to drop it for now.

"Whatever you say, Doc," she said and went back to eating.

"Anyways, a slight change in subject," Miles said, "any luck trying to get anyone else to on the trip?"

"Not really, Dad," Arnold shrugged, "I think they're still unsure about it, given San Lorenzo and everything."

"Well, if you ask me," Helga retorted, "those chuckleheads need to move on already. I'm getting sick of them constantly holding that over you."

"To be fair, it was on me a bit," Arnold said, "After all, I kinda turned that trip into finding my parents instead of just enjoying the trip behind everyone's back."

"That's because that psycho La Sombra had you deceived, sweetie," Stella said, "you didn't really know who Eduardo looked or sounded like, so there was no way you could tell."

"I guess," Arnold shrugged, "but I've moved on from that and just grateful where we're all at now, a family."

 _'Holy fuck, you're gonna make me throw up,'_ Clint thought and rolled his eyes, _'Family. What a load of horseshit.'_

"Well then Short Man," said Phil, "why don't you put that to the test and help me and your dad with dishes?"

"Of course," Arnold smiled and gathered up everyone's empty plates.

"I'll meet you upstairs, Football Head," Helga said, "I gotta use to the commode."

Clint looked around and discreetly sent a text to Seymour.

 _'Meet me by my room.'_

* * *

A short while later, Helga was making her way to Arnold's room as she left the bathroom, all the while still thinking about her conversation at the dinner table.

 _'There's something about that Seymour,'_ she thought, _'he seems like someone that can't be trusted.'_

It was when she walked by Clint's room, she heard his voice and Seymour's through the closed door. Using her eavesdropping skills, she placed an ear by the door and did her best to listen in, but that proved difficult as most of the conversation was the other side, both men were discussing what had just happened.

"You weren't kidding, Clint," Seymour said, standing by the window, "the loyal is going to be trouble."

"So what do you want me to do?" Clint asked, playing a game on his phone, "you want me to have her capped or something?"

"No don't do that" Seymour said, rolling his eyes, "while she maybe trouble, she's essential if our plans are to go into full effect!"

"Right, right," Clint said, "the whole Pyramid Angels mumbo jumbo. Speaking of which, how are you going to get me to go? It's not like they're gonna let an ex-convict go on a school trip just like that. And also, what exactly are you going to have me do once we get there?"

"All in good time. My master and I will have all that sorted out. For now, just keep an eye on them and report to me anything that could be useful. Well, I best be off then. I'll see you at the airport when everything is settled."

"Fine, whatever."

 _'I knew he couldn't be trusted!'_ Helga thought, _'but who would've guessed that the scumbag was in kahoots!'_

She quickly made a dash for Arnold's room before she could be caught and closed the bedroom door, but not before catching a glimpse of Seymour walking down the hallway.

* * *

"I'm telling you, Arnold," Helga said as she paced back and forth in Arnold's room, "something super fishy is going on. I mean, c'mon, why on Earth was Seymour doing in your Uncle's room?"

"Maybe, they just wanted to chat?" Arnold shrugged.

"With the door shut and locked?" Helga deadpanned, "I'm being serious. Something is going on and I'm gonna find out what."

"I think you're looking a little too deep into this, Helga. I know my uncle doesn't have the best track record, but during the time he's been here, he does look like he's trying to start over."

"That may be, but I'm gonna keep my guard up. I just have this gut feeling."

"Well, tell your gut to ease up a bit," Arnold chuckled, "I'm sure there's nothing really going on like you think there is. Let's just try and focus on the trip and have a good time, okay?"

"I guess," she sighed and plopped on his bed, "do you ever get the feeling that stupid stuff always happens to us?"

"Maybe," Arnold shrugged, "life is funny sometimes."

"Yeah, and look where that got ya," Helga said and wrapped her arms around him, "With me."

"Do you see me complaining?" Arnold said and leaned in for a kiss.

"Nope," Helga said, gladly returning it.

* * *

Later that evening at Mighty Pete, the rest of the gang had gathered in the tree house for their weekly get together. It was something that was, of course, initiated by Arnold, who believed that they all have a special bond that shouldn't be broken. Everyone liked the idea and chose Mighty Pete as the meeting place before deciding what to do, whether it be baseball or just chilling in the tree house. As they waited for Arnold, Helga, Gerald and Phoebe to arrive, the topic of the class presentation and the field trip came. Everyone was still skeptic of going.

"I don't know guys," Sid said, "even if we all decide to go, who's to say that it won't be like San Lorenzo again."

"From what Arnold told me at lunch," Stinky said, throwing a bouncy ball against the wall, "his dad and Principal Simmons have ran a full background on this guy and they said it's legit."

"Even if that wasn't to happen," Rhonda said filing her nails, "the hot dessert would just ruin my clothes. And my hair."

"The jungle did that, too, Rhonda," Nadine pointed out, chuckling to herself on how her hair instantly puffed up as soon as she stepped off the plane.

"Regardless, Nadine, I'm not going."

"I think we should go," said Lila, "I missed the trip the last time and I just think it's ever so mean of you guys to keep holding that over Arnold. As Helga said in class, he was just as tricked as you all were."

"She has a point," agreed Patty, "do you guys really think Arnold would set something up like that? You guys were what? 11?"

"Yeah, that's true," sighed Sid, "I do kinda remember seeing the look of horror on his face when La Sombra revealed himself."

"See?" said Lila, "plus I think it would be just an ever so great way to end junior high. Who's to say we won't have another opportunity like this again. What do you guys say?"

Everyone looked around the room, pretty much confirming their answer.

"I'm game," said Harold.

"Yeah, one last Junior High harrah, I say," agreed Curly.

"I guess," Rhonda said, "what do we have to lose?"

It was then, Arnold poked his head through the tree house entrance, with Helga, Gerald and Phoebe following.

"Hey guys, what are you all talking about?"

The group sat in silence, not really sure how to say it or at least not wanting to. This left the new four arrivals really confused until Lila at last spoke.

"Arnold, we've all decided to put the past behind us and that we are all going on the trip to Egypt together."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hooo boy, writer's block is a bitch. I honestly had zero clue of what I was going to do with this after the last chapter. Well, CallMeNettie came to the rescue and helped me out greatly by listing some suggestions to keep this going and not make it feel like filler, so I give her all my thanks for that. Original plan when I envisioned this story was to have it around 30 chapters, but it may end up being shorter. Who knows?

This chapter is named after **"Birth of the Wicked"** from **Iced Earth's "Something Wicked This Way Comes" (1998)** album.


	8. Empty Words

**Chapter 7 - Empty Words**

With the closely knit group of friends all agreeing to go on the trip, everything began to come together quickly and Principal Simmons had soon arranged a meeting with all students and parents who intended on going. More chaperons had elected to sign up, as the parents thought more adult supervision would be required given what had happened in San Lorenzo. Among them were Martin Johanssen, Kyo Hyerdahl, Peter, Ernie and Mr. Hyunh.

"I'm surprised you're wanting to go, Ernie," said Arnold as he put on his coat and headed to the Packard.

"Are you kidding?" Ernie said excitedly, "a chance to see the Pyramids, some of the greatest structures mankind has ever built? I can't pass that up!"

"Yeah, so you can knock 'em down, Demolition Man," Clint said sarcastically as he grabbed a Yahoo soda from the fridge and headed for the Packard himself.

"Sorry Buster," Ernie said firmly, poking Clint's gut, "they don't allow ex-convicts on school property."

"Then tell that to all kids who spent time in Juvie," Clint rolled his eyes, "C'mon, I ain't gonna bother anyone. I'll sit in the back of the room. No one will know that I'm there."

That was only half true. Seymour had instructed him to be there in order to observe how the whole trip was to be planned out without revealing its true intentions.

"Come on, Ernie," Miles said, trying to scramble everyone into the car, "I don't have to breakup an argument. Clint just get in and try not to cause a disturbance."

"Can do," Clint said and climbed in, giving Ernie a victorious smirk.

* * *

At the school auditorium, all the gang had gathered at the front rows while their parents sat behind them. Clint, as promised, stayed at the very back and pretended to mind his own business. Miles, Seymour, Robert and Mr. Drone were up on the stage as they setup their presentation to explain the trip itinerary and costs.

Helga sat near the end of the front row, where at one point, she was sitting with Arnold, but when he left to help Miles and Stella carry things in, it was quickly taken by Ricky.

"Hey pal," she said in a polite, but firm tone, "Arnold was sitting there. There are plenty of other seats."

Ricky paid her no mind as he continued to play the game on his phone.

"I don't think you heard me, bucko," Helga said, "but that seat is taken."

"Yeah," Ricky said, "By me. I just want to get this over with. I've got a big Fortnite match in a couple hours."

"Seriously, how are you Granola Boy's kid?" she scoffed.

As if on cue, Robert called for everyone's attention.

"Thank you all for coming," he said, "It's great to see a lot of familiar faces again. I think it's truly wonderful how all of you kids have been such close friends throughout these years since P.S. 118 and I find that an extra special part of this trip."

'Gimme a break', Clint thought, 'what a throw pillow.'

"Anyways, I'll give the floor to the Shortmans and Mr. Hartley and we can get started."

"Good evening, everyone," Seymour said and began to go through the slides, "for those who don't know me, my name is Seymour Hartley. I'm one of the assistants to Dr. Emile Stefin for his archaeological dig for our destination in Egypt. Now I've called you all here to explain what this trip entails. The plan is to leave for Cairo, Egypt on the morning of March 22nd. I know that's only a couple weeks away, but plane tickets have been arranged and payments for those are only what is required for this trip. Food and shelter will be provided at the base camp near the pyramids. There will be time to explore city, as well as a day excursion on the Nile before focusing the rest of the week on the excavation. Any questions?"

Everyone's hands then immediately shot up.

"Ones that don't involved river pirates. Listen, I've heard the story from the Shortmans and Principal Simmons and I understand everyone's concerns, but I promise you that this trip is just a regular educational field trip. No pirates involved."

'I wish', Clint thought.

Helga eyed Seymour suspiciously. While everyone else seemed to have their concerns put at ease, she knew he was lying and she turned back to Clint who had a curious smirk on his face. Her gut told her that something was up, but decided to put it aside for now. Arnold noticed her eyeing Seymour and his uncle and knew what she was doing given what they had discussed the other night in his room. He did try to give his uncle the benefit of doubt, but given from Helga had explained to him, now he was having second thoughts. Their thoughts were broken when Seymour moved onto the next topic.

"There's one more thing I need to address," he said, "I do have some equipment I need to take back with me to Egypt and I could use the assistance. I would ask the chaperons, but you'll be busy with the students."

He then looked up at Clint, who was still acting like a wall flower.

"How about you, sir? Clint was it?" Seymour said. Clint immediately picked up on this as this was how he was going.

"Yeah, like they're gonna let a criminal go on a school trip," Helga scoffed.

"Helga," Arnold said sternly.

"No, your girlfriend's right, Arnold," Ernie protested, "I work in construction, I can lift whatever you need!"

"I appreciate the offer," Seymour said, "but you are needed with the students. Really I just need the help with moving this stuff. As long as he's not directly involved with the students, I wouldn't think there would be a problem, would there? I will personally pay him."

Miles rubbed the back of his neck and looked at Robert, who was torn on the situation. He knew of Clint's time in prison and was certain that there would be consequences to him going from the school board.

"Alright, we'll do this," he said, "I'll request a background check on him. If nothing else other that what we already know shows up he can go. But, he stays away from students during our excursions. Is that clear?"

"Fine by me," Clint said, "I've done things that I ain't proud of, but I am for sure trying to turn my life around and right now with my job schedule as sporadic as it is, I can use whatever money I can get."

"Perfect," Seymour said, "and don't worry, I'll make sure to keep him busy."

'Yeah, busying spying on us,' Helga thought.

"If there are no more questions, "Robert said, carrying a large stack of paper, "I'll hand out all the paperwork and such. I need all of these back by the end of the week."

* * *

Outside the school, Miles, Stella and Seymour were busy saying their goodbyes to the students and parents and answering any last minute questions they may have. Helga meanwhile pulled Arnold, Gerald and Phoebe aside the stairwell.

"Don't you guys find it a bit strange that Seymour was quick to 'hire' Football Head's uncle back there?" she said, "first I find them chatting it up in his room at the boarding house, now he's miraculously going with us. I'm telling you, something's up."

"Honestly Helga," Arnold said, "I'm starting to think so too. This can't be a coincidence."

"It does seem very peculiar," Phoebe added, "all of this just seems to happen right around the time Clint appeared at Arnold's doorstep."

"Man, it just seems all the weird stuff keeps happening to us," Gerald shook his head, "first FTi, then San Lorenzo and now some crazy scheme with Arnold's uncle and some professor assistant."

"Preaching to the choir, Gerald," Helga agreed, "I don't know about you, but I'm keeping my eyes on both of them during this whole trip. If they think they can get away with whatever they're planning, they've got another thing coming."

"I'm with you all the way, Helga," Phoebe nodded, "I'll try to do some more research on Mr. Hartley too and see what he's hiding."

"Way to think ahead, Phoebe," Arnold said, "I'll try to see if I can get Uncle Clint to tell me anything else about himself before we go."

"Awesome, we got a game plan," Helga said, "right now we keep this between us."

All four nodded and gave a group thumb handshake.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow," Arnold said, "Mom and Dad are waiting for me and Helga so we can take her home."

"Alright man, see ya later," said Gerald as he and Phoebe joined their respected fathers.

Back up on the stairwell, Clint walked up to Seymour.

"So…you were just kidding about that heavy lifting and shit right?" he asked, "Right?"

Seymour said nothing and discretely handed Clint a check before walking off to his car. Clint's eyes went wide when he saw the amount written on.

"Whatever you say, boss," he said to no one in particular and stuffed the check in his hoodie, "whatever you say."

* * *

 **A/N:** Goddamn, I actually wrote something! Yeah, life has gotten in the way once again. I was planning to get back to this last month when I got back from a couple of train watching road trips in Iowa and Illinois **(BIG BOY 4014, BABY!)** , but at the same time work has gotten super stressful and not even a week after I got back from Chicago, they dropped a "promotion" in my lap, so I've been hyper focused on that for the last month or so. I am trying to update more frequently, so just bear with me.

Also, please go check out **CallMeNettie's** new story, **"As Time Goes By"** , the sequel to her God-Tier fic, **"A Slice of Life"**. Be sure to have tissues on hand and **_leave a review!_**

This chapter is named after **"Empty Words"** from the **Death** album **Symbolic (1995)**.


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